


Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon

by guitarplayingastrophysicist



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-24 21:35:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17711999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guitarplayingastrophysicist/pseuds/guitarplayingastrophysicist
Summary: John doesn’t get a lot of days off between Queen’s tours and recording sessions, but when he does, he likes to spend them with you.





	Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon

You and John have been married for a little over a year and a half, and live together in a one bedroom flat in London. The flat is small and drafty, with cracks in the walls and a leaky faucet in the bathroom that the landlord keeps refusing to fix.

You remember how embarrassed John was when he drove you to the flat after your wedding, apologizing in the car—nearly to the point of tears—saying that this wasn’t the life he wanted for you, but it was all he could afford.

“It’s _alright_ , John.” you had assured him, grabbing his face in your hands. “Honey, I will love you regardless of where we live, regardless of how much money we have, regardless of what you’re able to buy me. _I love you, John_. That’s not going to change.”

He had reached up and taken your hand that rested on his face, bringing it to his lips to kiss it gently, before sighing.

“Shall we go on in, then?” he had asked, nodding towards the building.

“Only if you carry me over the threshold like you’re supposed to.” you had whispered back, and grinned as you watched the blush spread up his cheeks as he shyly smiled.

John had indeed carried you across the threshold of the flat that evening, carried you straight to the drafty bedroom and lay you down on the springy mattress and thin blankets. He had followed you down onto the mattress shortly thereafter, and done things to you that made you forget all about the condition of your new home.

Now, nearly one and a half years later, you and him had fixed up the flat as best as you could with the meager funds Queen received from the sales of their albums. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it housed you and John, and wherever he was, well...that was home to you. The occasions when you got to spend the entire day with John were few due to Queen recording their new album, so when you did get a day when he wasn’t working, you usually just spent it together. Normally you would go out to get lunch and then end up in some bookstore somewhere, walking through the aisles hand in hand and each pointing out things they thought would interest the other.

One of those such days off you were with John in the tiny living room, having chosen to stay inside for the day because it was raining. You were lying between his legs on the couch, reading a book while he tinkered with some wiring that had come from an outlet in the kitchen. The microwave in your kitchen had been malfunctioning for a couple months and John had been attempting to fix it himself. You shifted slightly between his legs to turn the page of your book, and the sudden movement seemed to draw him out of his thoughts, making him remember you were there. You felt him stretch above you, and sighed, closing your book and checking your watch.

“You want some lunch, love?” you asked, reaching around behind you to run your fingers down his arm.

“Yeah,” John sighed, sounding relieved to put the wiring aside. “God, I’d love some.”

You nodded, and climbed over his leg and off the couch. You padded over to the kitchen, ignoring the useless microwave, and turned on the broiler. You and your husband both liked cheese on toast, it was simple, easy to make, and best of all cheap. As you set about fetching the bread, cheese, and butter, you noticed John had shuffled after you and was now busying himself with the tea kettle.

“I can make you tea, if you like.” you offered, noticing him filling the kettle. He waved his hand at you and shook his head.

“You’re making me lunch, so I’m making you tea.” he said simply.

You grabbed him on his way back to the stove and pulled him down for a kiss.

“If I knew I’d get one of those every time I make tea,” whispered John when you released him. “I’d do it more often.”

You whacked his arm playfully but let him go about his business of heating the kettle and sorting through teabags while you cooked up four pieces of cheese on toast, two for you and two for him.

You had just taken the cheese on toast out of the broiler and laid them on a plate when you suddenly felt John’s arms around your waist, his body pressed into your back, and his chin on your shoulder.

“Hey.” you said, reaching up to ruffle his hair. “Whatcha doing?”

“Thanking you for the kiss you gave me earlier.” he whispered, breath hot on your ear, and you felt your body relax against the kitchen counter as his lips kissed their way down your neck. He stopped when he reached your collarbone, and you yelped when you felt his teeth scratch your skin lightly.

“Enough, mister.” you said sternly, wriggling out of his grasp to face him with the plate of cheese on toast. You tapped his nose playfully with your finger. “Not until you’ve eaten your lunch.”

John pouted in mock disappointment, but took the plate happily and padded back off to the living room, where he flopped back on the couch and stretched his legs out again.

“Wanna watch TV?” he yelled, and you heard him fumbling around for the remote.

“Sure!” you called back, fixing yourself a cup of tea. “Go ahead and find something good!”

When you joined him in the living room he was watching _Casablanca_ , one of your shared favorite movies, and you lay down gratefully between his legs again. He put the plate of cheesy toast on your stomach, and reached his arms around you to grab a slice.

You lay that way with him for the next two hours, long after the cheese on toast and tea were finished, and the living room was only illuminated by the TV light instead of the sun outside the window. By the end of _Casablanca_ , you had silent tears running down your cheeks. You had always been a sucker for old romance movies.

You sniffled aloud after the credits rollled, and felt John’s arms tighten around you.

“You alright?” he asked, catching you under your chin and turning your face so he could see it.

“Yeah, you know how I get with these silly old movies,” you said, laughing and wiping your face. “I’m a hopeless romantic.”

John chuckled beneath you, and grabbed your waist with his hands, flipping you over to lay on your stomach on top of him, your elbows resting on his waist. You wiped your face again, and John leaned up to turn off the TV and laid back on the couch. You blushed as he wrapped his arms tighter around your back, and studied you with his greenish-grey eyes.

“Something you thinking about, love?” you asked teasingly, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair gently.

“Mhm,” John purred, his voice low and husky. He leaned up slowly. “Thinking about continuing what I was doing earlier.”

His lips met yours and he pulled you farther up on top of him, hands wrapping around your waist. Your hands tangled in his hair as you kissed him deeper, and you and him continued in that fashion for a good portion of rest of the evening, until the only light that illuminated the room was the moon outside, and you fell asleep on John’s chest.


End file.
